Earth was abandoned long ago, as we learn from a series of interesting and all too plausible essays by Lydia Heliosmith, aged 17, for her Terrestrial Anthropology class. In 2387, the eruption of a supervolcano in the Phlegraean Fields annihilated Italy, Greece, Slovenia and Western Turkey, darkened the skies worldwide, brought the Holocene to an end, and saw the glaciers return, but the population of Earth had been in long-term decline ever since the Corporate Age. Half a million lucky people escaped to the ringstations, while the population of Earth continued to dwindle, from a peak of eleven billion down to ten thousand.
The station dwellers, genetically engineered to be geniuses in at least one field (because being a genius in two fields tended to cause mental health problems), are surprised to find people, against all the odds, still thriving down there, and begin to study them. They knew that some groups survived the initial collapse – survivalists, for example – but those had eventually succumbed to the failure of technology or the exhaustion of resources. The survivors are something different. They live in small clusters of self-sufficient communities, passing down traditional skills from one generation to the next.
One such community is Happdal, to all appearances a traditional medieval village in northern Europe, but its inhabitants’ DNA reveals a diverse mixture of ethnic backgrounds – and wild strains of genetic enhancements. Village life is less idyllic than it might be. A nearby village plans a sneak attack, and about a quarter of villagers are Afflicted, falling unaccountably sick long before old age. Their lives are celebrated, and then they are burned alive on a pyre, showing their bravery by enduring the flames as long as they can without calling out for help – i.e. arrows to finish them off.
It’s now 2727. Trond, immensely strong and able to heal from injuries extremely quickly, is a blacksmith, versed in almost all the mysteries of the trade. His uncle Bjorn is Afflicted, and everyone prepares for his Burning. Trond’s mother is Elke, wife of the jarl, feared and respected by all. His younger sister Katja is fierce and a fine fighter. His brother Esper, a bowman, is brave and clever – and handsome, in the opinion of the book’s main character.
The admirable Car-En Ganzorig comes from the Stanford, a ringstation designed to hold ten to fifteen thousand people. As a particularly bright student she was given the opportunity, after eighteen months of training, to secretly study the Happdal, from a hidden camp outside their village. She wears a bioskin – a stealth suit which monitors and regulates her health, and would hide her from the locals if they weren’t so sharp – plus an m’eye, Google glasses without the social stigma.
She loves her work, but makes the mistake of trusting her advisor and mentor. Adrian Vanderplotz is happy to take the credit for her work, since watching the villagers is becoming a popular pastime on the rings, and has his own long-term agenda: he wants the first new city on the planet to bear his name. He has remote control of her biosuit and – a major source of tension in the book – its ability to dose her with drugs. His villainy is confirmed by his hatred of Tintin.
I warmed to this book slowly. The first couple of chapters didn’t astound, intrigue or promise very much, and the prose is just there to do a job, but as the novel went on it drew more arrows from its quiver. The point from which it gripped me was when Car-En sees Katja, Trond’s sister, abducted by a mysterious white-haired figure, while everyone else is distracted by the Burning of Bjorn. Car-En abandons her commitment to non-interference and uses all her skills and gadgets to pursue the kidnapper and his victim, in a thrilling sequence. If this is an ordinary man from another village, why are her drones failing?
Here the reader realises that the novel won’t just be about a clash of cultures, or a romance between two people from very different backgrounds (although it is about those things too). As the brothers and Car-En hunt Katja and her kidnapper, and as the narrative starts switching to Katja’s point of view, the book takes some unexpected turns, developing into an entertaining novel with more ideas than the first few chapters would suggest. Not every storyline is completely resolved, and sequels are presumably planned – no one from Happdal ever gets to visit the ringstations in this book, for example – but it’s a satisfying read in itself. A solid three-star book. Stephen Theaker ***
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